Возвращение Шерлока Холмса
The Adventure of the Missing Three-Quarter
Andyetthecottagewasnotdeserted,foralowsoundcametoourears—akindofdroneofmiseryanddespairwhichwasindescribablymelancholy.Holmespausedirresolute,andthenheglancedbackattheroadwhichhehadjusttraversed.Abroughamwascomingdownit,andtherecouldbenomistakingthosegreyhorses.
“ByJove,thedoctoriscomingback!”criedHolmes.“Thatsettlesit.Weareboundtoseewhatitmeansbeforehecomes.”
Heopenedthedoor,andwesteppedintothehall.Thedroningsoundswelledlouderuponourearsuntilitbecameonelong,deepwailofdistress.Itcamefromupstairs.Holmesdartedup,andIfollowedhim.Hepushedopenahalf-closeddoor,andwebothstoodappalledatthesightbeforeus.
Awoman,youngandbeautiful,waslyingdeaduponthebed.Hercalmpaleface,withdim,wide-openedblueeyes,lookedupwardfromamidagreattangleofgoldenhair.Atthefootofthebed,halfsitting,halfkneeling,hisfaceburiedintheclothes,wasayoungman,whoseframewasrackedbyhissobs.Soabsorbedwashebyhisbittergrief,thatheneverlookedupuntilHolmes’shandwasonhisshoulder.
“AreyouMr.GodfreyStaunton?”
“Yes,yes,Iam—butyouaretoolate.Sheisdead.”
Themanwassodazedthathecouldnotbemadetounderstandthatwewereanythingbutdoctorswhohadbeensenttohisassistance.Holmeswasendeavouringtoutterafewwordsofconsolationandtoexplainthealarmwhichhadbeencausedtohisfriendsbyhissuddendisappearancewhentherewasastepuponthestairs,andtherewastheheavy,stern,questioningfaceofDr.Armstrongatthedoor.
